


Uninhibited

by NegansOtherWife



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Smut, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 10:10:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16195412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegansOtherWife/pseuds/NegansOtherWife
Summary: Rick needs to de-stress, and then, of course, there’s mouthy ol’ you. A quirky love story about—what else? Life and the monotony that it brings. Season 6 AU





	Uninhibited

Mushy peas on shelf #4A. Check. 

Pureed pears on shelf #5A. Double check. 

Labels straight, lettering legible, and jars no more than half an inch apart.  

Oh, the monotony that was Alexandria. 

Pureed heirloom tomatoes—not to be confused with the _diced_ heirloom tomatoes—on shelf #2A. Fucking check.

Stock attendant. You (kinda) had two degrees and somehow, this is what your life had amounted to? A chronic backache and carpal tunnel syndrome at the ripe age of twenty-seven. 

Wonderful.

Setting the last jar onto the shelf, you stood, reveling in your handiwork. You were done for the day—you should be so lucky!—with the ‘A’ shelves. Only twenty-six more shelving units to go! With a battered, _bratty_ huff—because _really,_ you should be so lucky to have found Alexandria and its people—you kicked your small step stool several feet to the left and began organizing the ‘B’ shelf. 

Radishes on shelf #6B. Mother- _fucking_ -check.

As if it wasn’t fortunate enough to have stumbled upon Alexandria at a time when Carol had decided to embark on a mid-life crisis—when she returned you were hell-bent on being next—your job under scrutiny was located in the cellar of one of the main buildings. The goddamn cellar! How in the fuck did you end up working in an environment that rivaled the set of _SAW II_?

Yes, some would say your attitude bordered on outright unappreciative, but you kinda just chalked it up to spending so much time in an isolated environment…and hormones. Never forget the hormones. The very same that had been running rampant on your body this past week. Maybe you were going through menopause? Was that even a thing for someone your age?

You never did pay attention in health class, or any class for that matter and Google was definitely out of the question. Like hell, you were going to ask Denise about— 

**BANG!**

The noise startled you, that was a given. 

“Um, hello?” You called out. From where you sat perched—primly—upon your stool, several industrial shelves stood between you and the person(s) who were rustling near the cellar’s door. Unless you suddenly inherited Superman’s x-ray vision, you were ass out of luck. “Who’s there?”

Silence. 

“Ok, don’t answer. Fucking rude,” You huffed, promptly returning to your monotony.

 **BANG! CLANK!**  

Another noise, this time much louder, came from the cellar door as they flew open, bathing a portion of the pantry in sunlight. You barely withheld the urge to repel and hiss as a beam of sun hit your naked shoulder. 

Yes, you were _that_ dramatic. 

The loud thumping of boots treading along the steps, shortly followed by the heavy closing of the cellar door could not even rouse you from your perch. Whoever it was obviously wasn’t looking for you and if they were— _tough_. They knew where to find you. 

Diced carrots on shelf #3B. This-is-agony-with-a-side-of- _check_. 

 “God- _fucking_ -damnit!” The expletive overlapped the sound of glass hitting the concrete floor. This time you were roused to move through the shelves, seeking out the suspect who’d—no doubt—just made your day 10x harder. 

“Um, Rick?” You were sure that is was him, all tense shoulders and broad-backed, he stood crouched beside a pool of candied yams leaking from a cracked mason jar. See the lady’s of Alexandria had a saying: It’s easy to see Rick comin’ but harder to watch him leave. 

Old hussies. 

But still...

Inching forward, you took a moment to freely ogle the round curve of his ass fitted in a snug pair of Levi’s. Why not, you know?

“Rick,” You tried again, your voice no higher than a whisper in fear of what he may do when caught off guard. 

No dice. And though every nerve ending in your body was standing at attention, warning you from the tense atmosphere that seemed to drape his shoulders like a winter coat—you took another step forward, resting your hand on his shoulder. 

His reaction was the equivalent of a shotgun recoiling. In a quick maneuver, he’d sprung from his crouch and caught your throat in a one-handed grip that sent you flailing backward into one of the shelves.

“Shit, Y/N,” His pupils seemed to sharpen, a cloudy haze receding as he gazed intently into yours. Assessing a lack of threat. Nope. Just you. “I didn’t know anyone was down here.”

“No, yeah, I get it.” The words came slightly breathy as you spoke them. With him so close, mere centimeters from your own face; you couldn’t help but notice his casual beauty. He was handsome, yes. But all superficial tendencies aside, he had very soulful eyes. You couldn’t begin to imagine what they’d seen to have accumulated so much wisdom, brown irises ringed with so much _hurt_. “Can you, um, let go of my throat?”

“Shit, yeah— _fuck_! I’m sorry, Y/N.” He released you abruptly, and in turn, your lungs refilled with oxygen. Besides a sore lower back from where the shelves had been digging into your skin, you were perfectly ordinary, and you tried to convince him as much. “No, it’s not.” Rick protested, roughly raking a hand through several unruly locks of hair. “I’m not thinking straight and that’s not good for anyone. Look what I did to you.” His warm hand clasped your forearm, caressing what would surely be a small bruise. 

 “I’m okay,” You insisted. “Perfectly mundane, I assure you.”

Rick began to pace, mindful of the broken glass that littered the floor. Any person with half a brain cell would’ve relented, gave him time to cool off as he was obviously stressed about something. But—you were _you_ —a girl with literally no self-preservation.

Stepping into his path, you hesitantly inquired, “But are you—okay, I mean? Is it stress?”

Way to go captain- _fucking_ -obvious!

“To the point where I can’t think straight, Y/N.” His short bark of a laugh drew you back. Beneath your fingertips, his heartbeat felt palpable and _angry_. “These people will never…” A shuddering breath. “Forget it. I’ll go now. I’m sorry about the mess.” A small crack in his words, so small you’d almost missed it “Just…sorry.” 

And then you saw something in Rick Grimes that you thought you’d never see. Defeat. He hung his head, shoulders sagging from the weight of an unsettled community and not so subtle, calloused words. Fuck! _Fuck_! You weren’t good with situations like _these_. You know—? The life-changing kind!  It settles over you like a feeling of anticipation. It’s as if you’ve suddenly reached a crossroad or a trains coming and you have to decide whether you’re going to board or let it pass you by. 

But the beautiful thing was, no matter how unnerving these moments were, you kind of lived for them.

Hadn’t you been complaining about how contained your life was moments before—well, this? Here was your chance to make it less contained. Rick hadn’t moved. Instead, he studied you with an air of expectancy. Or maybe it was your imagination? Maybe you wanted him to expect something of you.

With a carefulness you hadn’t known you possessed, your hands cupped his face and lifted his head. 

“Rick,” You started nervously, smoothing your dress back into place and hoping to make yourself a fraction more presentable. Lest he not take your offer seriously. 

“Yeah, Y/N?” His weathered sigh made your chest ache. “What is it, honey? Is it your back?”

Honey? Ok, swoon. 

“I’m fine,” You said, waving off his further advances to check your arms for any other bruises. In fact, you were hoping for more. “I was just thinking that you could, I don’t know, maybe-take-out-your-frustrations-on-little-ol’-me?”

“What did you say?” Rick’s brow furrowed as he took the time to mull over your request. You knew that particular look, you’d seen it numerous times at community meetings. Usually when he was stressed or angry—which was always, now that you thought about it. It was this calculative expression, his lips pursed and the intensity of his eyes seemed to smolder. 

Yet, you weren’t deterred. Hell, you owed this to him. It was practically your civic duty.

“Fuck, Rick. You’re gon’a make me say it again.” You hissed. “I said—!”

“Honey,” He drawled, the words dripping off of his tongue were thick as molasses and you found yourself pressed against a shelving unit with a slew of other things. Rick’s dick, specifically—pressed against the soft skin of your stomach. “You couldn’t handle me at my uninhibited. I’m fuckin’ _pissed_.” He ground his hips forward, emphasizing the word. “And when I’m pissed, I fuck hard.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, you retorted, “I can fucking handle it.”

“Such a filthy mouth,” He teased.

Hmm, so they say.

“The better to suck your cock with,” You fluttered your eyelashes, a small smile inching onto your face as his eyelids became hooded at your words. Was it hot in here or was the sexual tension just that palpable? “I could show you?” You hedged, hands twitching towards the waistband of his jeans.

Rick’s form remained contemplative, yet willing, as you began your slow descent. The cellar was naturally cool but the air seemed to grow heavy with heat the moment your fingertips brushed his zipper. 

“Rick?” He hummed in response, bracing one hand on the shelf near his head while the other rested gently on your shoulder. Making quick work of his jeans, you pushed them past his hips and bared his erection to the room. “You shouldn’t feel so bad about the others, I mean, they’re obviously just jealous of your impressive _cock_.” And without another word, your mouth descended onto the dripping head of his arousal; experimentally gripping and stroking, taking all nine inches down your throat.

He gave a garbled protest, choking out your name as you relented, tonging the prominent vein that ran along the underside of his member in your retreat. “Yeah?” You asked curtly, because who likes to be interrupted in the middle of a performance?

“You don’t have to do this.” He protested though you could clearly see that other parts of him begged to differ. 

“I just wan’a do my part,” You pleaded. Twisting your wrist, you stroked his cock leisurely as your carried on talking. “You’re wound so tight you can’t even think straight. You said it yourself, Rick. So shut up and fuck my throat.” You paused, mouth poised. “Oh, where are my manners? Please?”

With a low groan, his hands found your hair, entwining and guiding you along his length as you bobbed your head to the throbbing tempo that had settled in your pussy. He was uninhibited, taking mercilessly as he widened his stance and forced his cock deeper down your throat, unsympathetic when you gagged from the force of his thrusts.

“That’s it, honey, take my cock down your throat.” You could only whimper as your free hand traveled between your legs, pushing aside the damp fabric of your panties and delving between your drenched folds. “Are you playing with your pussy, Y/N? Spread your legs, let me watch.”

You complied, spreading your legs wider and whimpering when the cool air caressed your dampened folds. “I can’t wait to fuck your pussy, honey.” Rick groaned, watching you expertly roll your clit between trembling fingers. “That’s it, get yourself nice and wet for my cock. Rub your pussy for me.”

Your eyes closed, becoming submissive to the pleasure that coursed through your body each time his grip tightened in your hair. Rick Grimes had a filthy, filthy mouth. Duly noted. Releasing him with a sucking pop, you stood, beginning to unbutton his shirt, revealing a  smattering of dark hair atop sun-kissed skin. He was beautiful, that was always a given. “Is this the part where you fuck me like you hate me?” You teased. 

“In so many parts,” Rick smirked. His hands traveled the expanse of your shoulder, trailing along the column of your neck and down, _down_ to the collar of your sundress. Slowly, with hushed breaths and tongue pressed against cheek, he bared your breasts to the room. “ _Fu-u-u-ck_ , you’re killing me.”

“What? It’s just a nipple piercing.” Specifically, a metal barbell through your left tit. “Not your thing?”

Oh, but by the look on his face, it was definitely his thing. 

Wet heat enveloped a good portion of your left breast while he palmed the other, roughly pushing the top half of your dress down to your waist. It was the most exquisite feeling you’d experienced in quite some time, one that was threatening to pull you over the edge. “I need your cock, Rick—right now!” You found yourself pleading, clawing at his back as he lifted you, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist. The urge to be filled was almost too strong.

He seemed just as desperate as you, his lips swollen and bruised from the attention he’d given your breasts. Wedged between a shelf and Rick’s hard chest, you pushed the crotch of your damp panties aside, allowing the head of his cock to rest against your wet slit. 

He seemed to hesitate. “Last chance.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Unceremoniously, you pushed your pelvis forward, impaling yourself inch by aching inch onto his arousal. You were so full, full of him. He stretched you so effortlessly, and in kind, your wet heat readily enveloped him. Distantly your heard him panting, cursing some diety before the wet heat was back on your left breast. _Oh_. Rick’s tongue curled around your pierced nipple before his teeth carefully tugged on the barbell...

“Oh, oh! _R-rick_ —oh shit!” Your toes curled, your back arched, eyelids became clenched shut tight. It’d only taken just one thrust, one _particular_ angle to send your inner walls into a spasm. 

“So soon?” He taunted you, grinding his pelvis against your clit as he _wrung_ the last curls of heat from your core, pressing you against the shelf to gain leverage against your slick skin. 

“I can assure you that I’ve still got at least, hmm, two left in me. So put your mouth on my breasts and fuck me!” You tightened your inner walls for emphasis. “I want you to pound me, Rick.”

“Y/N, your mouth is going to be the death of me.” He groaned, pressing his lips against the column of your throat. The jars rattled as he thrust forward, nudging your walls as your loud moans mingled with his soft grunts. “You want this, honey? My dick so far up your cunt, you’ll be walking funny for the next week?”

“Oh, y-yes! Fuck me, please!” The jars behind your back rattled, and yet you paid it no mind. It was only him. His wicked tongue and his slick skin beneath your fingers as you clung to him, taking the pounding he gave you. “I need it. I need this!” You moved desperately against him, taking as much as he did. There wouldn’t be an inch of you that wasn’t sore tomorrow. 

Your next release tore through your core, pulling taut against your tummy as you clamped down onto his pistoning length. With a low curse, Rick’s grip on your hips tightened to the point where it was almost unbearably painful, pressing your lower halves tightly together as he _pulsed_ against your inner walls while you keened and wailed, shivering in the aftermath.    

“Thank you.” With a fleeting kiss, Rick released you. “That’s exactly what I needed.”

“You’re so very welcome.” You couldn’t resist, pressing closer to lengthen the embrace. A slow sweep of your tongue against his pink bottom lip. “My pussy _has_ been known to work a miracle or two. It’s magical, you know.”

“I can’t argue with that, can I?” He smirked, pulling away and adjusting his pants. 

Smart man. 

“Rick, not that I didn’t enjoy that life-changing dick of yours…” You started, only to stop short as he pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, helping you slip the thin straps of your sundress back into place. “It’s just, why were you here in the first place?” You were curious. Sue you. 

“Judith’s lunch.” He offered sheepishly. “We’re out of strawberry jam.”

“Oh,” You brightened, “that’s easy—shelf #5H.”

Check. 

**Author's Note:**

> loved it? liked it? leave me a kudo and a comment! i love hearing from you guys, thanks so much! x


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